


Life

by drvology



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Evak - Freeform, M/M, SKAM - Freeform, Skam Season 4, Snuggling for warmth, a lot of feelings, just dipping my toes in, sweet domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: Five Even & Isak vignettes. Anytime during or after S4.





	Life

[ Caribbean Jerk BBQ ]

 

They sit on a boulder on a blanket Isak kept folded so it's thick and warm under them. They've finished a bottle of sparkling wine and a bag of dried fruit and granola. There's another blanket around their shoulders. It's slipped loose, a shapeless oval connecting their laps.

This is a trial run for traveling farther afield, rambling along the coast in a camper van, just the two of them. There's no plan except to keep going several days and then come back. It's the best thing ever.

They sleep midday, stargaze the night through, eat sandwiches for breakfast, sing loudly to their favorite songs, fuck with the back doors open so they can hear the waves. Snuggle close after because it's cold, but that kind of cold—creeping in around the edges, warded off by their body heat in a burrito blanket as they talk about nothing and everything—feels good.

The sun is going down, glorious and beautiful, slow and dripping gold into the water below. But Even has trouble caring about watching with Isak facing him, studying him, smiling, limned from the sunset in white, in rose.

Isak traces his face in quiet contemplation, sweeping here and there, featherlight along his lips and then a finger over the sharp bumps of his bite when he opens his mouth.

"You're so hot too," Isak murmurs, still blushes a little when he admits this. But he admits it these days, open and sweet, and Even soaks it in. "How's your color today?"

Even bops his head in thought, decides, "Gold—like the sun."

"Oh? Gold is new." Isak runs the pad of his thumb down Even's nose and taps the tip. "Is gold good?"

"Yes. Maybe too good?" Even closes his eyes and thinks about it. There's no warning sensation with the gold, no building pressure, no itch under his skin. "No, not too much. It'll go when the sun does and then I'll be white—rosy?—no color again."

Isak is glad, relieved, understands. "Gold into neutral. I like that."

Even likes it too. Likes better how Isak lets him touch, draw in for a kiss, rest their foreheads together.

He ignored his color system as he fell for Isak. Not really ignored, more stubborn belief the bright suffuse orange-red—like staring at the sun through lowered eyelids—was natural, real, in the moment from being with Isak. But the orange-red persisted, got more saturated, blinding, painful, as he kept persisting in thinking he'd ruin the good if he acknowledged it. Like breaking a spell. Instead, putting aside hard-learned experience and his defenses led to the mania, his whole world becoming that color, vibrating faster and brighter and brighter, searing even the need hope desire for Isak away.

Then the crash, darker than black more like empty, but both saturated in fear and memory of Isak not wanting, not wanting, not wanting that in his life.

He paid the price, but learned more from it. They both learned.

Even has seen that color since, that orange-red. It is because of Isak. But it's softer now, vibrates happiness, fades. As it should when he's balanced.

He made himself pay attention and learn the difference.

He'd never explained the colors to anyone before Isak. How depression is an insidious encroachment of foggy tones, dense, greys blue black. How mania is too bright, too sharp. His colors are ever-present, at the far reaches of his awareness without being intrusive; it's not like he hallucinates. It's just part of how he checks in, knows, reads his moods.

When he braved sharing about them, Isak had said—oh, like my aunt with a migraine.

You have an aunt? he'd asked, wants to know everything about Isak, and Isak explained both.

His aunt—mom's sister who doesn't live in Oslo they see maybe at Christmas but he likes her and she gives good presents—gets migraines. But she knows the warning signs when one is coming, so she pays attention and can stave them off pretty well anymore.

So, like a migraine. _Only_ a migraine. Something normal people get. Isak had laughed and said yes, exactly.

Oh, Even had breathed, breathless. Oh, right. He'd laughed too, prick of amazed tears hooks in his throat.

Even knows the warning signs. An imperfect system, because his head and body chemicals are an imperfect system, but Isak gets it too now, and they maintain it together. Stave off the worst.

Last night they'd caught a glimpse of the aurora. Like that—your colors? Isak wondered. Even wished, said they're boring and have no sense of rhythm, no dancing bands of green-yellow-blue. Isak laughed, decided boring maybe was best.

White—rosy—is Even at his best. He's been white-rosy for days and days and days and days.

Even sighs, suffuse with it, and tugs and pulls Isak to him, legs up over his thighs, groins close, chests tucked in, wraps the blanket and his arms all around.

"You know?"

"Hm?" Isak hums it against Even's nape—he feels more than hears it.

"We're always a perfect fit." Even grins, voice lowering, "No matter the position."

Isak snickers, hums longer, kisses him. Twice, again. Leans back. Even holds his weight, waits for what he's going to say.

"That's because we're happy." Isak frowns. "No, not happy."

Evan's eyebrows fly up, riding his surprise. "We're not happy?"

"No—we're content." Isak frames Even's neck with his hands, palms on Even's collarbones, thumbs at the pulse cupped in the center. "That's different."

His heartbeat surges at that, hard thumps it's evident Isak feels.

"See?" Isak asks, mouth demanding all of Even's attention.

Like his grin—teeth, dimples, blush—for Isak. That sensuous curve, the bow that parts just for him whenever he nears, that pleased smirk Even can't resist.

So he doesn't, drags them into a kiss, nods when Isak pinches him to agree.

 

[ Chili ]

 

"Hello?" he calls as he lets himself in, not sure who all is here. Isak will be, for sure, and a frisson of anticipation flutters his heart.

Their apartment is the unofficial official hangout. For the group, for a few, for anyone needing a break from home or everyone else. It makes sense and he enjoys it—they agreed it's fun and convenient to be the epicenter, had hoped it might happen when they got their own place, gladly take the random household supplies, beer, food and afterparty clean-up that's offered.

He enjoys it, equal to being loud and clear when he needs alone time with Isak.

Isak stops mid-maneuver from the kitchen. He's grinning and holding two enormous mugs of tea, and Even easily makes up the distance, diving in to kiss Isak's upturned, welcoming tilt.

"Hello. There's enough water for another." Isak nods and takes the mugs to the table. One set in front of Sana, one for himself. "Round three—black with pomegranate and blueberry."

Sana has an experimental sip and her eyes light up. "My favorite so far."

Isak smiles and curls a leg under him as he sits.

Even toes from his boots and sheds layers, coat and outer hoodie and flannel. He detours to the kitchen and makes a third enormous mug, lowering his face over the steam and scent, and does the dishes while it steeps. He carries it into the everything else room and leans on the wall.

"Ah—the geniuses at work." It's one of his favorite things, how hard Isak is working to do well in school, how much better Sana seems, how _content_ this all makes him.  There's a plate on the table with one cookie and a lot of crumbs left on it. "Lucky you two, I brought more." He sets a napkin-shrouded bundle on it, day-old goodies work lets them take at end of shift.

"Also lucky, you two finally bought a kettle." Sana has another drink of her tea and sets the mug down. "Hi, Even." She smiles and then goes serious again, finding her place on the screen and asks Isak about mitochondria or something.

Even watches them a moment. He cups a hand around Isak's far cheek, leans down, lays kisses across Isak's brow. "Hi. Do good."

Isak winks. "Duh."

He nods and searches around for the headphones and controller and chooses a game. After he's settled he shivers, and a blanket whumps upside his head, but not hard enough to dislodge the mug perched on his knee. Sana grins, sorta evil and all kindness, and turns back to her computer.

Before he hits start his phone buzzes. It's Jonas—and he answers yes for sure come over, but wait an hour or so, let the geniuses finish studying. Jonas agrees, says he'll bring beer and his dad overbought on cheese, so he'll get some bread to go with. Even sends a thumbs-up, tosses his phone aside, a given if anyone else wants to tag along they're welcome.

He puts his hood up and catches Isak watching him. Tries to look stern, wags a finger and motions to Isak's computer, feels goofy and amazing and everything—hints of hot pink arousal, soft pink happiness, pale pink chill—when Isak blows a kiss and then ignores him the hour and forty-five minutes of intense studying before Jonas and the others arrive.

 

[ Rosemary ]

 

Even reaches for Isak but the bed is empty. He grumps, opens his hand wider in a stretch, pauses when something soft tickles his skin.

"Hello…" he says to his sleeping companion, a tiny mass of mottled brown, grey, and dun fur.

A head goes up—sharp ears—and brilliant green eyes open. The cat isn't wary, comfortable in the dip of Isak's pillow, like it's been here longer than him. Even is enchanted.

There's a note tented on the bedside table and he carefully lifts past the cat to grab it.

 _You slept thru my goodbye and I had to go_  
_She's here so you're never alone again (when that happens, whenever)_  
_I call her Carda – gotta have that_

He whispers it several times, letting it roll off his tongue, and the syllables carve a smile around themselves and curl pleasure in his heart.

"Carda," he says again. She purrs and headbutts his outstretched hand, nips his fingertips, and he rolls onto his side and tugs her into the line of his neck, under his chin.

Her purr thunders through him and relaxes him and he's a half hour late leaving for work, regrets nothing.

An overturned bowl with a strip of paper across it sits on the kitchen counter. _For Even Not Carda_ is written on the paper, and under the bowl is his line of pills with chocolates in between. He takes his multivitamin and has a chocolate, takes his wort-weed something for mood help and eats the next chocolate, and finishes with his brain-good pill and the last chocolate.

Isak usually rewards him with kisses—takes a multivitamin and the wort-weed stuff too, part of their morning ritual—but the chocolates are an acceptable second.

Even tapes Isak's notes to their wall of things, dresses in whatever's on the floor, and runs for it before Carda can bewitch him into missing the whole day.

Hours later he's on a bench at school and waiting impatiently. Isak emerges from inside and he stands without really being aware, waves, and the group converges on him. He only sees Isak, the question in Isak's gaze. They kiss hello, and he pulls Isak in front of him, wraps around from behind, listens to them chatter about their day and whatever gossip while he noses in Isak's hair and breathes in Isak's scent before they break apart.

Isak lets him take hold of a hand and they meander toward home. Even barely manages it but he doesn't mention Carda.

"This way." Isak leads them down a street and into a larger department store. He stops them in the pet aisle, and ponders food and water bowls. "These?" he finally asks, holding up a mismatched set.

The food dish is small, red with silhouettes of mice chasing around the outside. For water it's a larger, rounded, dark blue bowl with a goldfish painted on the inside. Both are cheap.

Isak whaps him with the food bowl. "Well?"

"This for the food bowl." Even's pick is plain white with a rose painted on the inside.

"Perfect." Isak blushes happily. "You were acting like you hadn't noticed!"

"I was acting like I didn't want to tell everyone you got Carda, because they'd all rush over immediately to meet her, and I wanted at least one evening with just us before that happens."

"Oh, yeah. Good thinking."

Even smiles—kisses Isak's hot cheek—splits into a wider grin because Isak lets him without protest or self-consciousness. They decide on organic, lots of meat catfood, and get some snacks. Isak remembers they need shower gel.

Once they're outside they shift the purchases so outside hands hold bags, inside hands hold each other.

Carda greets them by running to the end of the bed, tail up, making a cute little _birrr-rrrrrrt_ noise. They show her their purchases, and she baps one of the catnip mice around, then follows them into the kitchen to inspect her food and water bowls. She knows she belongs, acts grateful and entitled, as a cat should be.

"She came with a box and litter—that's in the bathroom. And she's already fixed." Isak picks her up and carries her into the other room.

"Where did she come from?" Even kneels onto the bed and topples over next to where Isak is getting comfortable, Carda on his lap.

"One of the animal rescue groups had a talk at school. I claimed her and got her this morning—early early early."

Even grins, amused and pleased. "My hero." He tentatively rubs Carda's belly and she allows it. "She's not a kitten."

Isak checks if that bothers him—it doesn't so he bobs his head—and Isak nods.

"No. Which is why they brought her, for an instructive example." Isak glares in fierce protectiveness, something Even's only seen for him, and he gets it.

Only Isak makes him feel certain things, but Carda is fast worming her way in. Carda shared with Isak makes him feel things he can't even name, but they're all good.

"She's probably two or three, but will always be small because she's the runt. And she's not a distinct, 'good' color—but look at those gorgeous eyes!" Isak strokes the faint M on her brow and her purr deepens. They share a laugh, a kiss, but then Isak frowns. "Apparently that stuff made her impossible to get adopted."

"Until you."

"Until us." Isak scoots down so his head is on the pillow next to Even's. "We're rescuing her."

Hope and permanence and love and awe at all they're facing to make it jam up, throttle him, fill and expand his insides and then explode out and out.

"Good," he whispers, hoarse and teary and Isak simply kisses the cup of his eye, the wet gathered there, the corner of his wavering mouth.

"Is Carda an okay name?"

Even blinks and breathes and runs his fingers through Isak's hair. It grounds him, recenters, and he mulls it over.

"I love it—it's perfect. Her coloring even goes with it. But maybe with her middle name as Viv. Carda Viv Valtersen-Bech Næsheim."

"Or Bech Næsheim-Valtersen."

"Or that."

He looks up from the wrap of Carda's tail around his wrist into Isak's waiting gaze, sees that same mix of jammed up hope and love—and expectation this is gonna work, gonna make it—and they laugh at themselves, laugh to break up the sweet intensity. Even boosts forward and flattens a hand on Isak's tummy, Carda a soft warm line along his arm, and rests his forehead to Isak's.

Without intending to they fall asleep like that, wake rested the next morning. Saturday, hours before his shift, and they play with Carda and do Saturday chores and Isak settles into homework. He watches.

Every day until they have everyone over to meet Carda the following Saturday, Even draws a comic of Isak with cat ears, a tail, and little whiskers. He captions them with ridiculous things, tells about alternative dimension Catsak, champion endurance breath-holder, who lives in a house with yellow shag carpeting and grey curtains and owns two spoiled, happy kittens named Even and Isak. He folds them into Isak's coat pocket every morning to be discovered on the way to school, and Isak grumbles about them.

But Saturday as he's moving the table into the corner he finds them, at the far end window side of their wall of stuff, taped in a column in the order he drew them. There's an added sticky note. _Cats like windows—sunbathing and world observation, the step before world domination._

He's smitten and swooning and thanking his stars all over again—color mood like the food dish, good solid white with rose at its heart—pulls Isak into a kiss that lasts through someone buzzing the intercom, calling them both, and finally banging on the door after someone else in the building let them in.

They spring apart, because the door isn't locked and someone's coming in, and they can't let Carda Viv escape into the hall.

 

[ Pottagaldrar ]

 

Magnus leans his chair back on two legs and looks at Isak, then Even, and back to Isak. He's on the verge of asking something stupid, Even can tell. Carda apparently knows too. She gets up from the middle of the table where she'd deigned to let the boys pay her all due attention, stretches and yawns, and leaps onto the bed.

Even already has an arm around Isak—they're perched in the top corner of their bed, leaning against the wall—but he tightens his hold, strokes his other hand up Isak's arm. It's a preparatory defense, deployed to soothe Isak before the aggro even starts.

Isak puts his hand out and Carda bumps into it. She rubs into Isak's touch before flopping across their laps, paws outstretched so the front press to Isak's arm and the back press to Even's thigh, with an instantaneous, lazy purr.

"Okay but, who… you know." Magnus moves his hands in a push-pull like he's playing a demented accordion.

Jonas mutters fuckfuckfuck and Mahdi stands up to get everyone another beer.

"What?" Magnus throws his hands. "I just want to know. Shit like, how it works. I mean, I don't know."

Isak pushes forward and Even massages his shoulder, turns in with a smile, thinks slow it down, focus here, focus on me. But Isak shushes a low laugh—only for him—kisses his cheek and straightens.

"You wouldn't say being interested in doing butt stuff with Vilde makes you gay, right? Because you want to do it because it's with her and it feels good."

"Feels amazing. And right, agreed." Magnus is earnest and no one else chides.

"So, if we do butt stuff—regardless who—that doesn't make one of us somehow weak or whatever. It's just, same reasons you do." Isak shakes his head. "You know?"

Magnus frowns but he seems to get it. "Yeah. And no. I mean—I never thought either of you were a girl or something I just… well." He shrugs.

Isak takes the beer Mahdi holds out but doesn't open it.

Even takes his and does. He has a long drink. They don't smoke up that much anymore. Everyone feels bad he can't partake, and the secondhand isn't great for him, so they just don't if they're inside. In the apartment. His and Isak's house. Their perfect, tiny, they're figuring it out and doing just great complete with a perfect cat, house.

He shakes his distractions away and listens to Isak again.

"What works is we do what feels good—not always butt stuff—and what we trust each other with. And go from there, just like anyone else." Isak grins, turns and gives Even a big, wet kiss, and waggles his eyebrows at Magnus. "That and google _versatile_."

Even's tension releases, like a ribbon escaping your grip as a balloon carries it away on the wind. He kisses Isak back, wants to reward Isak and shout happily and ask where that came from.

"That was a good answer," he whispers into the ensuing silence of the guys obviously googling exactly that.

Isak nods. "It wasn't a bad question, just kinda stupid. But those are still important to answer."

"Oh?" Even makes an exaggerated impressed face. "Look at you."

"Good advice I heard once. Being with you made it make sense." Isak scritches Carda and she elongates her splay. "Which is basically true for everything else."

Isak blushes, beautiful and beautifully flushed, and Even carries a mirroring gladness in his heart. Coral pink bubbles at his edges, diffusing inward into the white, and a hot stripe of orange slips past. He grins and tugs Isak to him.

Magnus starts reading off an entry about the meaning of versatile and Jonas' phone suddenly blares slapping noises and grunts—quickly shutters when he makes a gagging sound and closes the surprise video—and Even laughs into Isak's mouth.

 

[ Cinnamon ]

 

Even tugs the strings of his hoodie, tightens it, withdraws into the larger hood of his coat. He jams his hands in his pockets and speeds up, because he doesn't want to see Isak's pleased smile or busy fingers or glowing phone.

Isak doesn't yell after him. In fact, Isak slows to a stop and finishes his chat and Even thinks fine. Who cares. No problem.

He lets anger in because anger is bright—bright and ugly—but it's powerful enough to hold the fog, greys blue black, at bay.

He's in his sweats and a tee and not really making dinner slamming things around when Isak finally comes into the apartment after him.

Isak is methodical in getting out of his coat and layers, doesn't explain or appease, and goes into the everything room without a word. Even mashes his face against a cabinet and counts to ten, but it doesn't make a difference, and then he's stalking in there ready to yell or make demands.

"Look at you," Isak tuts as he crawls onto the bed to curl around Carda. "She lifted an eyelid at us—barely. That's how comfortable she is here." His disdain breaks into a grin.

Something about Isak's simple happiness with the cat breaks Even, snaps his thin composure.

"Why do you talk to her?"

"Who?" Isak frowns and thumbs Carda's ears.

"You know who!"

"Tell me, so I'm sure."

"Sonja."

Silence roars. Isak pets Carda and sits back up. Nausea and fear snake around inside Even, pushing beneath his ribs and making his sternum tight and his heart ache.

"Fucking Sonja," Even spits, as if Isak hadn't heard him the first time.

He knows how she is, how easy it is to let her just take over. She's pretty. Pretty and strong willed and—normal. Normal compared to him in every way, from his stupid bad stupid fucking brain to his being a boy in a world where a lot of people didn't really like that Isak is one too, and maybe Isak still doesn't, just a little.

"I sent her flowers and she thanked me for them. That's all we talked about."

Even's hands fly around like he has no control over them and he doesn't, really. The disconnect scares him, reminds him of the drop, the descent, the darker than black. He bares his teeth so Isak doesn't notice his tears, and he thinks he's overreacting, but he can't help it. He's so afraid and knows Isak will figure it out, sooner or later, figure out he's too much work and too much risk and too much—too much unless it's good and then there's not enough.

Barely good. Barely anything. Barely holding it together. He wraps his arms around himself and heaves in breaths, struggling for air.

Isak is there, up from the bed, rubbing his arms and making low noises.

"Can you hear me?"

Even nods. Not because he wants to make Isak feel better, but same time, the tremor of fear in Isak's voice pains him.

"Will you listen?"

Even nods again.

"Here." Isak maneuvers Even onto the bed, wraps him in a blanket, and tucks Carda inside. She pops her head out to look around but stays put, leans into Even, chin on his hand as she purrs.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Isak scrubs at his hair and paces then returns to the bed. "I'm sorry—I didn't pay enough attention to see we were here."

The fog is receding and Even is embarrassed now. He wants to make a joke—crack wise, crack this apart, crack it away—but he realizes he has to hear Isak's explanation. One he basically forced.

"It was her birthday this week. Sana told me." Isak waves a dismissive hand. "Anyway, I sent flowers and told her thank you. She texted to say she got them, and that was about it."

Even frowns. "You don't owe her gifts. Anything."

Isak moves so their knees touch, can't seem to help himself, reaches and strokes long reassuring lines under Even's eyes. Even feels the wetness Isak wipes away and blinks—surprise and vulnerability and too fucking raw—but Isak smiles.

"The flowers were the kind of gift you're glad to send but everyone knows it's like, the last you'll see of each other." Isak shrugs uncomfortably like it's hard to know how to explain, but his gaze is steady. "I do owe her that much, at least."

"Why." Fear, again, but he has to know.

"She took care of you until I could."

It steals Even's senses. He floats and stares and then starts to feel gravity again. Even grabs at Isak and digs in, hard.

"You do a better job," he whispers, to the bone, but it's honesty not a wound. "You care instead of bossing, you want to instead of like a burden. And I want you to. Want you."

"I'm trying. We're trying—no, we _are_." Isak laughs, watery and relieved. "I love you."

"I love you too." Even is crying now but he doesn't hide.

"Damn right." Isak huffs and wipes away his own tears. "And yeah I do a better job—she thought she could suppress it, control it. I want you to be you, all of you, and we deal with that. I love all of you, okay?"

Even nods because if he answered it'd be a sob, until Isak shaking him makes him laugh, say, "Yes, okay."

"Good." Isak gives him a stern look. "But she did help me, and helped me understand a few things, and you know, flowers and a thanks? She deserves that from me for doing it." He licks his lips and wrestles with something.

"Tell me." Even can breathe again. He's starting to understand and there's no fog, no dark. He circles Isak's wrists with his hands and squeezes.

"For a little while after we met—after Sonja contacted me but I didn't answer—I started to get afraid she wasn't the babysitter, but that you were. That you were the controlling one, and she was trying to warn me." Isak flushes and looks miserable and he kisses Even's forehead. "I know that's not it, but I was just so confused about everything, and you hurt me, being so hot and cold, and I didn't know I'd fucked with your head after I said that stupid thing—"

"—that you've apologized for, and I get the reasons why and accept even without, and we moved on from." Even doesn't let him finish. He rubs his thumbs over Isak's pulse points. He's apologized for hurting Isak so many times those words don't even sound like words anymore. They agreed they were past both—really, and it's good. "Yeah?"

Isak smiles. "Yes—mister who is mad at me that I'm trying to comfort, yes."

Even smiles too. "Wow. That was actually… really chill of you to do. And kind. But I'm not surprised at the kind part."

"Just the chill part?"

Even shrugs. "I've seen your temper."

They laugh at that. Strange, voice-breaking, nervy laughter that spills out, loosens the tightness in his chest, the lead in his belly, the ice in his heart.

Isak pushes Even over and they tumble on the bed. Carda goes with it, crawling on Even like he's a reverse hamster wheel, stopping when he stops once he's on a pillow facing Isak and the blanket is over all three of them.

She slides into the narrow gap between them, rolls onto her back with a yawn, and stretches her legs overhead. Even grabs one of her paws and loves the rhythmic, curling grip she gives his finger as she falls asleep.

"How's your color?" Isak is a little bit worried, Even can tell, as he traces lines along Even's eyebrows and nose and lips.

"Gold." Even opens his mouth.

Isak bites his own lips as he drags his thumb on Even's teeth. "That's good, right?"

"Yes, I figured it out—it's contentment."

Isak's eyes go wide and he grins. "Perfect." He kisses Even and snuggles in. "Let's nap and then you can fuck me later."

Even almost short circuits. He drags Isak closer, kisses—smooshing an uncomplaining Carda until she's kinda on the pillow, kinda on their heads—and slips his hands under Isak's shirt.

"Maybe I'll want you to fuck me."

Isak's laugh is low and slurry and he palms Even's ass. "That's good too."

It is. Even shuts his eyes and drifts, starts to fall asleep, Isak's heartbeat and Carda's purring soft, strong, soothing rumbles in his mind. It's white and rose shot through with gold, and at the edges he sees a new quality to the colors—incandescence.


End file.
